The Ceiling
by fringebenefit
Summary: November 1780. Ben returns from the war, and Felicity confronts everything that she has forgotten. In between The Autumn Maiden and Scoundrels.


Authors note: A bit melodramatic here, but hopefully not over the top!

Felicity Merriman stared into her mirror, trying to figure out what to do with the stubborn chunk of hair that kept escaping from her cap and falling awkwardly into her face. It wouldn't do just to tuck it into her mob cap; it would simply would not stay put. She took a pinch of hogsfat and twirled the clump of hair around her finger in an effort to give it a better curl. No such luck; it just continued to hang limply in front of her eyes. With a brief flash of impulse she grabbed a pair of scissors and imagined cutting it off, but then thought better and put them down. With a sigh she flicked her head to snap the hair back, then headed downstairs.

Her mother sat in at the table, helping Polly with her reading. Polly looked up, and Felicity poked her tongue out and pretended to try and capture her errant hair with it, making the younger girl giggle. "Lissie," her mother acknowledged, "come here and I'll fix that for you." Martha took a wooden spoon and set to curling Felicity's hair expertly around the handle. "Next time you will have to be more careful in the kitchen; I thought your entire head would go up in flames!"

"I was nervous." Felicity admitted. "Perhaps I should just let Rose and Nan do all of the work next time." Her mother laughed. "You will have to be able to cook for Joseph, especially since you have pledged yourself to him. Felicity blushed. "Mother, please." She had recently entered into a courtship with Joseph, a young physician who had recently set up a practice in town after serving in the Continental Army. She could admit to herself that she enjoyed Joseph's company, but the attention that her mother gave was embarrassing. It didn't help that the previous night when he had visited the Merriman household for dinner, Felicity had an unfortunate accident in the kitchen. She was worried that Joseph would think her beyond reproach, but after wrapping up her burned fingers, he had merely laughed and told her to take more care.

She brushed all of this from her mind and glanced in the mirror. The piece of hair curled around her face, framing her cheekbone nicely. She smiled and wrapped her cloak around herself, bid her mother and sister farewell, and headed out to do the day's errands.

It was early November, and the winter chill had already set in. The days were cold and grey, and were getting noticeably shorter. She took in the familiar surroundings as she walked down the street; all of her neighbors, the tavern, the shoemaker, the wigmaker, the grocer, all of these business just the same as when she was a child. But things were a little different; the war was now in its fifth year. Most of the young men were off fighting, and the colonies had to be self-sufficient. Felicity and Nan had to learn spinning and weaving as well as sewing, and the Merrimans had to expand their garden as to produce as much food as possible. Each day the town received the names of the men who were missing or dead, and Felicity was relieved that her brother was still too young to fight. But the way that the war seemed to go on, she shuddered at the thought. Her father was often away for commissary work, but he assured his family that he was entirely safe and insisted they save their thoughts for the men who were fighting, including Ben.

Felicity tried not to think of Ben if she could help it. It was true that they had once been the best of friends. But, she had grown up quite a bit in his absence and she imagined that he felt the same way. There were no longer kept secrets between them, no inside jokes, and no deep conversations. The last time she had seen him, back during Publick Times a year ago, and he had not even recognized her at first.

 _There's a reason for that_. The voice in her head said. She shook her head to clear the intrusive memory of Publick Times and the whole Autumn Maiden fiasco before it could present itself.

Another aspect that now was different in her life was Joseph.

Joseph had been a regular customer in the Merriman's store, often purchasing items for his new office. He appeared clueless, and had begged for Felicity's help. "I know how the human body works, but I do not know what goes into a desk!" He had laughed. After his office was set, he still would return to the store nearly every day, buying random inconsequential items, including more quill sets that one person could ever need. He had finally admitted to her that his everyday visits were to see her, and that he would quickly run out of money if he went without telling her. She remembered how he had taken her hand and how she realized how nice his eyes were as he stared into hers. Months ago, she should have scoffed at the idea of a suitor, and even more so at the giddiness she felt around him, but, many things had changed for her in the past year.

Felicity smiled at her thoughts and pulled her cloak tighter. Everything seemed to be working out. Her mother and father liked Joseph, he was brilliant and kind, he indulged her fondness of music and dancing, riding, and reading, and he liked her. This was the most important part. She was trying to get ideas for things she could bake for him, to make up for the previous incident and to show that she was indeed competent in the kitchen. She wanted to see him smile his warm, generous smile, and to hear his praise.

She entered her father's shop, where William sat behind the counter. He looked up and grinned at her. "Strange to see you here, Sister. Should I have a bucket of water on hand in case you set yourself on fire again?" Felicity made a face at him. "I'll be sure to give you a big hug if it happens!" She ducked as William threw a couple of wooden beads at her, and headed into the backroom.

There, her father was reading what looked to be a letter. He did nothing to acknowledge her entrance, but continued reading. A few moments passed, and she squinted to make out the writing on the outside.

 _Davidson,_ it read.

Felicity bristled, not hiding her annoyance. "A letter from Ben? He finally wrote, did he?" If Ben was such a good friend to her, why did he never write to her? He had written to her parents a few times, but never to her. He must not have valued their friendship as she did. Either way, it did not matter, for they were no longer friends.

Her father did not move, but continued to read. Felicity tapped her foot in impatience, and her father finally looked up at her. "My dear Lissie," His face was solemn. He handed her the letter to read for herself.

She unfolded it, an uneasy feeling growing in her stomach.

 _November 1_ _st_ _, 1780_

 _To Mr. and Mrs. Edward Merriman_

 _Our Ben has returned to us from the war but with a great cost. He suffered a severe injury to his chest, and corruption set deep upon exposure to the cold. He burns with fever and struggles to breathe. Ingrid and I fear that his condition is grave. We are asking you to pray for Ben and for our family at this time. We will send word if there are any changes._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Samuel Davidson_

Try as she might, Felicity could not comprehend the meaning of the letter. She read it over again, pulling out words to try and get a better understanding.

 _Ben…injury…fever….grave condition…._

It made no sense. She had seen Ben just one year ago at Publick Times. He seemed healthy enough and had all of his fingers, even after two and a half years of war. That, and in the two years he had spent with the Merrimans, he had never once fallen ill. It simply wasn't possible. Felicity shook her head, and looked at her father.

Her father reached out and touched Felicity's shoulder. "Daughter," he said, "will you be wanting to write to the Davidsons? I will be leaving on business for Yorktown tomorrow. I can deliver it myself if you will have one ready." He thought for a moment, then corrected himself. "Perhaps it would be better to send with the carrier this evening."

Felicity did not move, only looked down at the letter again. A shiver went through her, strengthening as it reached her hands into a full-blown tremble. She set the letter down, and looked at her father again. As her eyes met his, the full realization crashed upon her. Ben was dying. The letter was dated November 1st, two full days ago. Perhaps it was too late and he was already gone. She closed her eyes, and tears that she did not realize had welled up rolled down her cheeks.

Her father took her uninjured hand. "Dear Lissie…" he began, unable to find the right words to say. Felicity felt a lump developing in her throat. When had her father ever been at a loss for words? She took her hand away and tried to manage a smile, but failed, having to settle for a nod instead. She stiffly turned and left the backroom, then breezed past William and out the doors.

The walk home was a complete blur. She had forgotten about all of her errands, panic taking over as she walked quickly with her head down. Upon returning home, she did not go to the main house but instead headed for the stables, running up the stairs into the loft that once had been Ben's room. She flung open the door and ran straight for the bed, collapsing onto it as if the force of her actions would rouse Ben from his illness miles and miles away. There, she tried to steady her breathing, fingers curling around the blankets. She resorted to using a breathing technique that Joseph would tell his patients to employ if they were suffering pain or emotional hysteria, breathing in for six counts, then out for a full nine counts. She rolled over onto her back, and tried his technique.

 _One…two…three…four…five…six…_

 _One…two…three…four…five…six….seven…_

 _Eight….._

 _Nine…._

 _And repeat._

Felicity studied the ceiling as she breathed. What kind of wood was used here? She imagined all of the knotted patterns and the veins coming together to form objects, as one would imagine when looking at clouds. She remembered that she once tried to play this game with Ben as they relaxed in an open field during one of their rides. But, Ben had refused to participate, claiming that clouds were so otherworldly that he simply could not compare them to normal everyday objects. _Surely,_ she thought, _he must have_ _pictured objects in the board patterns of the ceiling as he awoke every day_. At these thoughts of Ben, fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she realized she may never be able to ask him this, as inconsequential of a question as it was.

 _I have to write a letter._ She thought, sitting up. Not wanting to go back to the main house quite yet, she looked around herself for the proper tools. Ben had kept few possessions, and the room had been further cleaned out in the days before his departure. She looked first through the bureau as it was closest proximity to the bed and noticed a few articles of clothing, but no paper or ink. He had a small, simple desk in the corner. She walked over and pulled on the drawer, which only opened a few inches, making it necessary to stick her arm in unseen and root around. Her hand found some stray paper and she pulled it out, spreading it across the surface of the desk.

Some of the paper already had writing on it. She took a closer look, and noticed they were sketches. She knew Ben enjoyed sketching; he often had paper and ink with him. She flipped through, seeing rough outlines of objects found in nature like plants, trees, flowers, and common items such as books and baskets of fruit. She paused as she found a detailed drawing of a beautiful grandfather clock. Was this back in Ben's home in Yorktown?

 _Perhaps he is hearing it chime now._ Again, she felt a lump in her throat and put the sketches aside, seeking out a clean sheet of paper. She found one, then using the quill set in the corner of the desk, she prepared to write.

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1780_

 _Dear Ben,_

Felicity paused, suddenly aware that she had not considered what exactly she would be writing. She put the quill to paper, and as to just get it out in the open, wrote the obvious, simple question.

 _Do you see patterns in the ceiling boards? I'm asking this because I laid on your bed today and noticed that there were varying patterns in the wooden knots and veins on your ceiling. You must have studied them at some point and imagined it._

 _Please tell me your thoughts on these,_

 _Forever I remain your friend,_

 _Felicity_

As she re-read the letter, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and was ashamed to have written such a foolish, careless letter. A tight feeling grew in her chest as she realized that this would quite possibly be the last correspondence with her dying friend. It obviously would not do. She tossed it aside, and pulled a fresh sheet, steadying her breathing and waiting to achieve a calm demeanor before writing.

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1780_

 _Dear Ben,_

 _I have heard that you have returned from the war, and I remember your promise to return to us and the store. I eagerly await having you back with us, and I know Mother and Father and Nan and William and Polly and Marcus and Rose feel the same way. Patriot is all grown now, and Nan has been riding him with more daring and skill than I ever did I admit. There are a great many things different now, I would like to tell you that I now have a suitor_

Felicity abruptly stopped writing and put the pen down. This also was no good. She felt like a silly, and perhaps stupid girl all over again. How was she ever going to do this?

She closed her eyes and let all of her purposefully suppressed memories free, and they came flooding back all at once.

She remembered Ben referring to her as a friend after she stole his breeches….smiling at her as he helped her down from the riding chair before Governor and Lady Dunmore's Christmastide dancing lesson…..being the only person to believe her story of British soldiers stealing stockpiles of gunpowder….how Ben had listened to her when she tried to convince him not to run away…..him completely covered in flour after an accident in the stockroom….consoling her after her Grandfather's death, telling her he wished he could do more….testifying in court on behalf of her father….playfully pulling on her red hair as he joked about Lady Margaret coming to haunt her… smiling at her to avow her worries as he prepared to leave for training….his stunned expression as he recognized her all dressed up as the Autumn Maiden…embracing her just before he departed to join back up with his regiment...

Felicity let out a sob as she remembered the warmth of his cheek against hers, then he was gone. She had made a promise to herself that night that she would do her best to be good, yet she had maliciously disregarded her best friend for more than a year.

She took out yet another fresh sheet of paper and began to write.

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1780_

 _Dearest Ben,_

 _I have heard the most dreadful news about you, and I am hoping and praying that you will recover and return to us. You are my most dearest friend, and I remember fondly all of the times we spent together. You are the only one who treated me as if I was a real person and let me say anything to you. I am having trouble comprehending a world in which you cease to be, for when I saw you last at Publick Times (remember I was play acting as the Autumn Maiden?) you seemed as healthy and happy as you could be. I have a feeling in the back of my mind that even as I write this, you are already gone and my efforts are all for naught. At the very least I find comfort in the fact that the last time I saw you, you embraced me._

Felicity was openly crying as she wrote these words with a sense of increasing recklessness, forgetting all about proper grammar and penmanship. She forced herself to end the letter, not bothering to correct for repetitiveness.

 _I hope and pray with all of my heart that you will survive and recover and return to us, perhaps in the Springtime. You cannot imagine how happy that would make me to have you here by my side again._

 _With Love,_

 _Felicity_

Felicity angrily swept that letter aside, and put her head down on the desk. Perhaps writing a letter to her dying friend was outside of the realm of her abilities. It simply would not do, and there was only one option. She swiped an arm across her face to wipe away any tears and laid out what was probably the final sheet of clean paper in front of her, then began to write.

 _November 3_ _rd_ _, 1780_

 _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Davidson,_

 _I apologize for writing in such difficult circumstances and with such a bold request. I am the daughter of Edward Merriman, and I have had the pleasure of calling your son Benjamin a dear friend since he came to us many years ago. I am shocked and devastated to hear he is ill, and I find that nothing will calm my mind knowing that I may not get an opportunity to say good bye if he is, Heaven forbid, to pass. My father will be traveling to Yorktown tomorrow morning, and I will be accompanying him with a wish to see Ben. Begging pardon once again, I apologize for making such a bold request, but if you please, nothing would ease my mind and my conscience more than seeing my dear friend._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Miss Felicity Merriman_

She folded the letter, knowing full well that it was downright rude to demand to visit a household without a proper invitation. Yet, a part of her figured that Ben had to get his warm heart and easygoing, logical nature from somewhere and perhaps his mother and father would be understanding. However, the thought of being turned away by Ben's parents was not important at the moment; she had the much more daunting task of convincing her parents to let her go.

She took a deep breath, and glanced at her appearance in the small mirror hanging on the door. Her eyes were puffy and her cap askew, hair frizzing out of place around it. The stubborn clump of hair hung limply in her face yet again. She did not care to fix her appearance in any way, as she figured she needed to look as disheveled as possible while speaking with her parents about her decision. Satisfied, she left Ben's room clutching the letter along with his sketch of the grandfather clock in her hand.

In the main house, she found her mother and father in the sitting room. Judging by the expression on her mother's face, her father had told her of the news. They both looked up as she entered the room. "Lissie, I see you have a letter. Give it to me and I will have it sent off hastily." Her father stood up and extended a hand. Felicity handed him the letter with the sketch folded inside. "Thank you." She said quietly. Her father nodded at them both and left.

Felicity sat down next to her mother, both silent for a few moments. Her mother took her hand, repeating simply what her father had said to her. "My dear Lissie." Felicity squeezed her mother's hand, and swallowed against the lump in her throat, figuring that it would not do any good to cry now. Her mother continued, "he was such a kind boy." At the referral of Ben in the past tense, Felicity abruptly let go of her mother's hand, and opened her mouth. "Ben is still alive." She said forcefully, adding "and I am going with father tomorrow to see him." She had intended to bring up her wish to go with a little more tact, but was not at all surprised at how it came out. She studied her mother's face, waiting for a reaction. Her mother said nothing, only giving her a sad smile. Felicity felt her resolve fade a little, and vowed to herself that she would not accept no for an answer. She spoke again, giving away her secret weapon. "The letter I gave to father was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Davidson, Ben's parents. It states my intention to travel with father tomorrow and see Ben, and begs their pardon for my intrusiveness. So, if I do not go at all, how does that make me look?" She watched her mother intently. Finally her mother spoke. "Your father and I knew that you would make this request, and we intend to let you go so that you may see your friend. But in case the Davidsons do not wish for your company, you must respect them."

Felicity was taken back with a bit of surprise. She imagined that her mother surely would have refused on account of her straightforwardness, or how she was breaking all the rules of proper society by inviting herself into a household, or, at the very least, due to any perceived danger on account of her father's work in Yorktown.

Her mother spoke up again, as if she was reading all of these thoughts. "Lissie, please. I am not so cruel that I would keep you from visiting Ben, and if the Lord bids it, saying good-bye to him. You two always had a special connection."

Felicity stammered, still surprised, "Mother! Th-thank you!" She quickly embraced her mother. "I must go and pack a few things."

"Yes, quickly! Then to bed. Your father wishes to leave early in the morning" Her mother said, adding, "Daughter, if Joseph comes to call while you are away, what shall I tell him?"

Felicity was taken back once again. She had not given Joseph a thought since she had read the letter. She decided that he must know everything, and it would be up to him if he wanted a sweetheart who had a male friend. Ben was too important to her to compromise their friendship. She spoke with decisiveness, "Tell him the truth. That I have gone to visit a dear friend who was grievously injured during the war." Her mother tilted her head a bit, then nodded.

After packing and eating a light dinner, Felicity fell into a fitful sleep full of patchwork dreams. Different places, seasons, and people that she knew drifted in and out of her mind, making it difficult in pin down anything that might be real. The only lasting image was of her lying in a bed of white linen sheets, with Ben lying next to her, sleeping. She turned towards him and brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. He awoke to see her and smiled, and Felicity marveled at how the morning sunlight streaming through the window made him look almost angelic.

It was then that Felicity woke up to find herself expectedly alone. It was hours before dawn, and the air was dark, and carried a damp chill. She hugged her knees to her chest as she remembered that she was to travel to Yorktown today.

 _What if I am too late?_

 _You will at least be able to see his burial._

The physical reaction to this last thought was swift and visceral, making Felicity feel like throwing up.

She sat up, and made preparations to leave with haste.

The next several hours passed by as a blur, including the half-day ride to Yorktown. Felicity gripped the edge of the riding chair, and alternatively Penny's reigns with white knuckles, the voice in her head hoping and praying that Ben was still alive. Occasionally she felt her father's eyes on her, but she kept staring forward, as if the force of her concentration would keep Ben from slipping away.

Finally they arrived at a large, handsome home in the heart of the city. Felicity looked at her father for the first time since the two of them left, taking in his worried expression. She wanted nothing more to leap down from the chair, race up the stairs, knock down the door and call out for Ben, but she allowed her father to help her down, and walked with him up to the door. She reached up with a shaking hand and pulled the knocker, and a moment later it swung open, revealing a young woman. Felicity faltered for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She then caught ahold of herself, and dipped into a slight curtsey. "Good afternoon madam. I have the honor of being Miss Felicity Merriman, and this is my father, Edward Merriman." Felicity knew that her father should have been the one to speak first and introduce her, but that was neither here nor there, and there were more important things to attend to. She continued, "I beg pardon for my boldness, but I wish to pay a visit to my dear friend, if you would have me."

"Mr. and Miss Merriman, we received your letter this morning and we have been expecting you both. Of course you may see him." The woman smiled, but Felicity noticed a sadness in her eyes. Felicity smiled back, her worry eased a little at the implication that Ben was still alive.

"Oh! Forgive me, I have not properly introduced myself." The woman said as she led them both inside. "My name is Anna and I am Ben's sister. I have traveled from Philadelphia to be with Mama and Ben for the time being." She led them up the stairs.

Felicity made sure she replied in kind, then finally felt it was okay to ask the obvious question. "How is Ben? Has he improved any? Did you tell him that I, er, _we_ were coming?"

Anna smiled sadly, not answering them. She opened the door into a large bedroom. An older woman sat in a chair by the bed. _Ben's mother?_ Felicity thought briefly, before she saw Ben lying prone in his bed. She numbly walked over, and saw him for the first time in more than a year.

He looked like death himself. His face looked nearly as pale as his white linen sheets. His eyes were closed, yet his mouth was slightly open as he took short, quick breaths. Felicity saw that one of his arms was heavily bandaged and secured to his chest and the other rested limply at his side, fingers curling slightly. She reached out and brushed her fingers against his cheek, noting with alarm at how burning hot he felt.

Felicity took her hand away and put it to her mouth, all her efforts keeping her from screaming. "Oh…" was all she managed to utter as she continued to stare at him. New tears formed in her eyes as she realized that Ben looked as though he might slip away at any moment. She faintly heard her father speaking to the older woman, as if they were far away. She turned to Anna and spoke, still in shock. "He is not breathing well." She looked back at Ben, noting that something else was amiss. "Did he…" Felicity continued to stare at him, "Did he break his arm?"

"Aye." Anna said simply.

"What happened to him? How was he injured?" Felicity asked, some of her initial shock wearing off.

The older woman spoke up. "His comrades said he was thrown from a horse and-" "I don't believe it!" Anna cut in, "Ben was always an excellent rider, and if he ever was to be thrown, he knew how to jump away to avoid serious injury." She shook her head, repeating "I simply don't believe it." She looked at the older woman, "Mama, is that the story that everyone tells?"

"Anna," the older woman admonished, "it does not matter now. Perhaps Ben can tell us when he heals." She smiled slightly at Felicity, who noticed the woman's accented English. Ben had told her that his mother was a foreigner. Felicity suddenly felt ashamed at not introducing herself properly. She quickly dipped into a curtsey. "Madam, forgive me for my lack of manners. I have the honor of being Miss Felicity Merriman."

"Think nothing of it my dear." The woman said warmly, "these are extenuating circumstances and protocol can be put aside. I am Ingrid Davidson, and you may have already guessed that I am Ben's mother." She leaned over and took Ben's hand. "I know it looks bad my dear, but I think he has improved. I told him myself that you were coming, and he smiled! Can you believe that?"

Felicity felt her spirits rise at Ingrid's assurance, but this was short-lived as she looked over at Anna, who shook her head slightly.

The kindness that the two women showed made gave Felicity a feeling of increasing guilt for her intrusion on such a sensitive time. Yet, she felt she had to stay to be with Ben. Her father left to meet with Patriot merchants in Yorktown, and Felicity became a houseguest of the Davidsons for the time being. The Davidsons had easily accepted Felicity as one of the family; Anna had made it a point to pull her aside and tell her that Ingrid and Samuel very much liked her and felt that having her here was good for Ben. Ben had two other sisters who lived with their families in town, Sarah and Charlotte, both of whom would come by for several hours each afternoon. She learned that Ben's eldest sister was expecting a baby in the coming months and could not make the journey. She also learned from Ben's father that after Ben was initially injured, slow correspondence and bureaucratic issues had delayed his transfer back to Yorktown. Samuel Davidson had finally given up with waiting and had traveled 2 days to fetch Ben himself. But, by the time he had reached the station, Ben had already fallen ill. "I was hoping to get him back here as soon as possible to be seen by the physician in town, or at the very least for a bath and a warm bed; perhaps he would have recovered by now. Those children that call themselves doctors do not know anything." Mr. Davidson said bitterly.

Felicity spent most of her time sitting with Ben, reading _The Sorrows of Young Werther_. Ben occasionally awoke, his eyes fluttering, but showed no acknowledgement of her presence. He switched between periods where he would lie completely still and silent, and periods where he slept fitfully, muttering in an odd mix of English and Swedish that was punctuated by spells of weak coughing. The physician stopped by once per day, and he and Samuel would sit Ben up so he could pound on the young man's back to try and loosen some of the corruption. This was an unpleasant task that Felicity could not bear to watch. When she wandered the house, she would often stop and study the family portrait, which hung next to a familiar-looking grandfather clock. It depicted a twelve-year old Ben, with his mother and father and his four older sisters. In the painting, Ben wore a slight smile, but his eyes were dark and serious. Felicity was reminded about the days back years ago, when Ben had first come to live with the Merrimans. He was quiet and kept to himself, making Felicity dismiss him as being completely uninteresting. How wrong she had been! She studied Ben's eyes as she looked at the portrait, and imagined them full of interests and knowledge, with more than a touch of patriotic fire.

By the third day, Ben had shown no improvement, and the physician had informed them that the window of opportunity for Ben's fever to subside and his lungs to clear was diminishing. Ben still breathed uneasily, and Felicity noticed with alarm at how his lips had taken on a purple tinge, reminiscent of a man at the end of a noose. Ingrid had previously maintained that Ben was showing signs of improvement and was optimistic that he would recover, but now she wept openly as she sat by his side, clutching Samuel's hand.

The fear that had sat in Felicity's chest since she learned of Ben's illness had become suffocating, and as she laid down to sleep that night, she wondered if Ben would still be alive when she awoke. She tossed and turned, struggling to get comfortable. She attempted the breathing exercises that had calmed her down before, but they were to no avail.

This would not do. Felicity finally got out of bed, put on her simple shift, lit a candle and crept to Ben's room down the hallway.

Anna was sitting next to the bed, reading by candlelight. She smiled in greeting when she saw Felicity and put her book down. Felicity sat down and looked at Ben. He looked exactly as he did when she first came to Yorktown four days ago, except his breathing carried a strained, ragged quality to it. A familiar lump formed in Felicity's throat, and tears welled in her eyes yet again.

The two women watched Ben for a few moments. Anna finally spoke, cutting through the silence. "I received a letter from my husband today. Our children are sending their love and hoping they will see their uncle very soon. It has occurred to me today that I may need to teach them about death. I feel they are too young for this. Then there is Mama and Papa…how can I leave them now?" She choked up, and Felicity placed a hand over hers. "I don't know…" she replied, "All I want is for Ben to recover so that I may have him back with me in Williamsburg." As the words left her lips, she realized how selfish this sounded and felt a slight flush across her cheeks. Anna simply squeezed her hand and replied "And perhaps I and my family, and Mama and Papa and my sisters, we will see you both, together, visiting us here in Yorktown!"

Guilt threatened to sweep over Felicity, but she held it back, burying the thought of Joseph. Perhaps he had decided that a sweetheart with a male friend was not in fact acceptable and would break it off. Felicity was strangely okay with this. She allowed herself to entertain the possibility of happier times; her and Ben with the rest of the Davidsons. "Aye, 'tis is a nice thought!" She felt the first genuine smile in many days spread across her face.

This was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit from Ben. Both women turned in alarm as he seemingly choked and struggled to inhale. Fear overtook Felicity, and without thinking, she climbed onto the bed next to Ben, squeezing his hand and stroking his hair. "Ben! It's me, Lissie! Please breathe…please…" She pleaded with him. Anna ran to the other side of the bed and started massaging below his collarbone. "I don't know if this will help but I saw the physician doing it…" She trailed off, helplessly.

Finally Ben seemed to relax, inhaling more fully. He was still once again. Felicity heaved a sigh of relief, but did not want to get off the bed. How many more of these attacks could Ben take before he would simply breathe no more? She laid down next to Ben and held his hand, dropping all pretense. "Ben, please…please don't go." She felt tears spilling down her cheek. "Please come back…."

"Please come back to me…I promise I won't forget you again…" She fully knew Anna was there, listening, but had to get it out. She owed it to Ben.

She repeated herself, "Please don't go…please…"

She closed her eyes, repeating this line like a mantra.

Felicity awoke to bright light shining through the window. At some point during the night, someone had placed a quilt over her. She stirred a bit, and realized there was a hand gripping hers. She opened her eyes, squinting at first. As she focused, she noticed Ben. He was turned towards her, and his eyes were open and focused on her. He was still pale, but not deathly so, and his lips were a normal pink color.

"Lissie," was all he whispered, and a smile spread across his face.

More notes:

1) Ben has pneumonia. It's a risk factor after trauma to the chest.

2) If Felicity seems a little OOC at first, I figure she is 16, with her first boyfriend. This is kind of a silly age.


End file.
